


No Amount of Effort Can Save You from Oblivion

by mj4x



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Swearing, Violence, uncharted 4 spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mj4x/pseuds/mj4x
Summary: "The scalding sun hits your slightly burnt face as you lie in the concrete floor of the patio, legs crossed and arm behind your head. You’ve been in this hole for a month and Rafe is nowhere to be seen. Why did you even agree to come on this treasure hunt again?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Panama  
1999  


The scalding sun hits your slightly burnt face as you lie in the concrete floor of the patio, legs crossed and arm behind your head. You’ve been in this hole for a month and Rafe is nowhere to be seen. _Why_ did you even agree to come on this treasure hunt again? He was supposed to have arrived weeks ago.

You met Rafe in college; a scrawny, pale and reserved Rafe. You both attended history class, and you’d often find yourself observing him from the other side of the room. He was thin and shy, yet graceful, with his always perfectly combed hair and expensive clothes. You’d heard a lot of rumors about him, about his parents and mostly about his wealth. He was indeed a mysterious boy, but once you got to know him, oh he sure had a lot more characteristics to himself. He was a rich boy, an arrogant and pretentious rich boy. He wouldn’t take a no for an answer and you’d seen him loose his temper rather quickly. You two had actually been in a couple arguments before, because you didn’t enjoy being relegated as Rafe usually did to everyone around him. However, you did consider him a friend, and as soon as he spoke of Henry Avery’s missing treasure, you knew you had to come. Right? You’d gone through a lot to be here, under covered in a male-only Panamanian jail working for him, or, with him; Rafe wouldn’t just leave you here. You cut short your beautiful long wavy hair, wrapped your chest in God knows how many bandages so your breasts wouldn’t give away your sex. And you didn’t mind; as long as you were getting half the treasure.

Lately, however, rumors had been spreading around the jail. You’d hear the prisoners chatter in doubt, certain looks heading your way. Supposedly, Vargas, the prison warden, is the only one who knows you are a woman, as he’s being bribed by Rafe, but at this point you aren’t even sure.

You get up and stretch, looking around you: several groups of prisoners scattered through the yard: to the left, a group of four by a table playing cards, screaming and cursing so rapidly at each other, not even your five years of spanish can help you understand; to the right, two smoking while playing poker, and a dozen more dispersed, exercising and chatting. You start walking through the yard, headed for the door that takes you inside. This is the only time you have to safely speak to Vargas, and you need it. As you approach the door, Gustavo steps in front of you:

“A donde vais, Daniel?”

The grin on his face makes you feel nauseous. As a matter of fact, he fucking disgusts you. Gustavo has some sort of knack at provoking others, and you have been ignoring him since the first day you came in.

You frown and roll your eyes as you move your hand:

“Que quieres, Gustavo?”

The inmates in the yard start to get up and closer to where you two are.

You slowly look around you and when you glance back at Gustavo, his tanned and robust body is standing much closer to you than before. He’s now saying some spanish gibberish as he reaches for your arm and grabs it. Your eyes widen and you attempt to break his grip, but he squeezes harder and you know you’ll have a mark tomorrow.

If you make it to tomorrow that is.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going through the works under the Uncharted fandom in general, but the Sam Drake/Reader ones caught my attention, so I decided to take a turn and write one myself. First time writing something like this, and definitely first time posting it online! (I am not English or Spanish so I am truly sorry if anything is written wrong, I made my best to ensure that it wasn't.)  
> Hope you guys like it and definitely don't hesitate to post a comment telling me what you think.
> 
> ALSO, the setting of the series and the Reader being 'infiltrated' is heavily inspired by the first chapter of devil_that_loves' work 'Karma', so I highly suggest you check it out!


	2. Chapter 2

Vargas had specifically told you to NOT FIGHT the inmates, but you couldn’t care less. Gustavo had it coming.

As soon as you feel his hand around your leg, coming up to your private parts, a fire starts burning in your chest and a wave of adrenaline washes over you. You push him away with such strength you didn’t know you had, and proceed to punch his jaw. You grunt as your fist connects to his jaw and a strong vibration runs from the tip of your fingers up to your neck. You step back and shake your hand as Gustavo postures up in front of you.

He looks you in the eyes, “¡Tú lo empezaste, pero yo voy a acabarlo!”

A small smirk escapes your mouth and you signal him with your hand, “¡Vale, pendejo!”

The prisoners around you cheer and scream in spanish, begging for one of you to kill the other. Gustavo attempts to punch you but you duck down, grabbing him by the waist and pushing him against the wall. You quickly stand up as your left hand grabs his right arm and your right hand instinctively goes to his face, smashing the back of his skull against the wall. Struggling, you do this a couple times before he manages to pull you away, swinging his left fist to your face. You hear a ringing in your head before you fall down on your back. The taste of metal emerges in your mouth and there’s a stream of blood coming out of your nose. You back away as fast as you can, and place a hand over your nose. The slight touch of your fingers stings the skin and you involuntarily let out a groan.

“Qué pasa?”

You look back up at Gustavo as he’s approaching you with a smile on his lips. Before you can get up he launches at you, still on the concrete ground. He’s now standing on top of you with his hands on your neck, squeezing it. Your struggle is immense, but he’s still crunching you harder and harder as he looks into your eyes and mutters something. You try to scream, but your voice comes out a mere whimper. Your vision starts to fade, along with your hearing.

Everything turns black and silent for a few seconds before the pressure on your neck is relieved. You regain consciousness within milliseconds and find yourself gasping for air. You sit up and turn back, coughing, panting, tears forming in your eyes. Through your eyelashes you see Gustavo spouting insults at you while being dragged away by Vargas. A familiar voice is heard from behind you:

“I didn’t know fist fights were your thing.”

You turn around, still coughing, and squint, looking up to see three figures above you. The sun is right behind them so you can only perceive their celestial-like silhouettes. The one closest to you crouches down, grabs your arm and pulls you to your feet. Your change of posture is so sudden that you stumble backwards and feel your vision fading once again. Another one of the figures quickly reaches for your waist and holds you up:

“Hey, you okay?”

He runs his hand through his brown hair as he holds you with the other. You barely look into the man’s hazel eyes before examining the rest of his face. Your eyes trace down the bridge of his nose, to his prominent jawline adorned with light brown stubble. He’s probably in his late 20’s, by what you can tell. You are somewhat fazed at this man’s divine complexion, now gazing at his thick, perfectly shaped, moving lips. Moving lips… Moving li… Shit, he’s saying something. What is he saying?

“Hey! Are you listening to me?”

You’re taken away from his enchant as he snaps his fingers in front of you. You look away from him and step away, only to find Rafe standing in front of you with his arms crossed:

“Care to explain?”

He nods to you with his head. Your eyes widen and you feel the pain in your nose. You wipe the blood off your face with the sleeve of your shirt, and when your eyes meet your chest you see splatters of blood, not sure if yours or Gustavo’s, along your white tee.

You walk up to him and push him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! ‘Care to explain’? How about _you_ explain what took you so long?”

You scoff and cross your arms, looking away from him, somehow reminded of the childish sulks of not so long ago. You glance around you: the patio is now back to normal, despite the inmates' glances in your direction from time to time, trying to make up your words. You cross the eyes of a man, probably your age, standing a few feet away. He looks away from you to look at Rafe. Finally, you meet the eyes of the man who was holding you just moments ago. He has an amused grin on his face and is lighting a cigarette.

Rafe motions his hands down, “Keep your voice down.” His head tilts, “We got busy outside; making sure this is the right way. And _I am_ sorry this happened.”

You look back at him, now perhaps a little bit apprehensive.

He circles his hands in front and around him “Whatever this was all about.”

Anger starts to sprout inside you once again, but you manage to control it, carefully laying your hand in your temples, making sure you don’t touch your nose.

“Who are they?” You wave your other hand blankly to your side.

Rafe glances at you somewhat apologetic, “Uh yeah… So, I was goi-“ His hand runs over his face, "We'll all be working together. That's.. that's what you need to know right now."

You drop your arms, losing patience. As you open your mouth to hiss at Rafe, the man smoking behind you, loops around and shows you his hand, smiling:

“I’m Samuel Drake. Call me Sam.”

You shake his hand with a slight smile on your lips. Before he lets go, he winks at you and you can definitely feel your cheeks heating up. The man you had seen earlier approaches you and sticks out his hand:

“I’m Nathan Drake.” He smiles and nods in Sam’s direction, “Sam’s brother.”

You look at the both of them, your eyebrows rose, without knowing what to introduce yourself as. Before you can begin to explain, Rafe steps in:

“This is Daniel,” he looks around and curves his body slightly. He puts a hand on the side of his smiling mouth, trying to form a barrier between you four and the rest of the yard. His voice turns into an almost mocking whisper as he widens his eyes, “Or Y/N.”  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Even though Gustavo had been the one thrown into solitary, Vargas put you in hand-cuffs and you’ve been like that for the past three days. You’re sitting in your bed inside the cell, rubbing your now sore and wounded wrists. Sleep has never been your friend, so you embrace the silence and dim ambiance of the night.

The moonlight illuminates the small space between you and the opposite bed where your cellmate lies sleeping. He’s a young Brazilian kid, no more than 18 years old. Short and thin body, shaved head, permanently frowning and mostly quiet. You’re not sure how he ended up here and even though your portuguese is good, you don’t bother asking.

You glance around the room seeking something else to focus your attention in, other than the back of your asleep cellmate. The atmosphere is thick and humid, almost hard to breathe in. You can only hear the occasional steps of a guard, cracking the sharp silence from time to time. The faded blue-ish hue in the room weights your eyes. Your eyelids start to close and for a moment you feel like you’re falling.

“Want one?”

You jump involuntarily, your heart beating way faster than normal. The smell of smoke reaches your nose. You look through the football-sized hole in the wall, slightly next and above your head. You see Nate lying in bed on the furthest side of the cell, sleeping. So, that previously empty cell must be the Drake brothers’ now. You can see the lit cigarette slightly peeking through the hole. A cloud of smoke emerges from the other side of the wall. It’s Sam.

“Shit, you scared me.” You posture up in your seat as you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckles.

You both stay in silence as the guard walks by the cells and glances your way.

Sam takes a long drag from his cigarette and exhales the smoke, “Are you feeling better? I noticed you haven’t been in the yard lately.”

“Oh you did?” You respond quietly and rest your head against the wall, “Yes. Thank you.” You pause and notice your scraped reflection in the hand-cuffs: your right cheek blemished dark mauve and red; your nose wielding a purple, maroon-ish hue and a cut across it, covered by a thin bandage. Your neck maintains Gustavo’s crimson hand prints on its sides and it hurts every time you move. “Just a broken nose and a couple of bruises.”

“Can I see it?” Sam asks as you hear his bed’s springs squeak.

“I don’t know why you would want to.” You say with a small chuckle. After a couple seconds of silence and no answer from Sam, you shift in your bed standing up on your knees in front of the hole, “Sure.”

Movement is heard on the other side of the wall and you see his smug face peek through. He stubs out his cigarette and throws it back. His arms rest on the wall, slightly above his head as he leans closer. You watch him closely.

Sam looks at you and smiles “There you are.”

You point at your injured nose and let out a small sigh, “Yep.”

His hand reaches past the wall and slowly heads towards your face. As you gaze into his eyes, his hand touches your chin, holding it gently. Your sight moves downwards when you sense the warmth on the tip of his fingers. He tilts your head up slightly and examines your face.

“He got you pretty bad.” Sam says with a sympathetic look across his eyes, a slim smile on the corner of his mouth.

You frown and chuckle, “Yeah… I guess you could say that.”

Sam pulls your head a little closer and you feel your heart racing. Why though? You met him a couple days ago, and you haven’t gone past the ‘acquaintance stage’. Yet you find him so charming and caring in a way you never thought you would.

Your breathing becomes heavier as his face comes closer to yours. He is now cupping your cheek, placing his thumb carefully on your bruised skin. You feel his breathing descending along your face until he stops and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose. For a moment you forget that you’re there. You forget that you’re in a degrading jail in the depths of Panama. You can only focus on Sam’s touch, on his breathing wiggling your short strands of hair, and his soft, round lips against your nose.

Steps are heard a few feet away from the cells, and you know the guard is nearby. Sam backs away slowly and you are able to glance into each other’s eyes for a second before you see light in the hallway and swiftly turn away from each other. You move to your left and let your back slide down the wall until you’re sitting down once again.

The guard walks by your cell, pointing his flashlight at you for a few seconds. You respond with a wave and he snorts before resuming his patrol.

Two of your cold fingers move up to your burning nose and flick it.

As you rest your head against the wall, you hear Sam lighting another cigarette.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year dudes and dudettes, hope you have a good 2017.  
> I'm working on the next chapter/s, which I'll try to make longer, so expect them soon!


	4. Chapter 4

There isn’t a day that goes by without you asking yourself how much longer you have to be here. However, everything surprisingly becomes more bearable with the Drake brothers and Rafe by your side. Nate’s witty remarks, Sam’s taunts towards Rafe and as a consequence, his reaction, always manage to get a laugh out of you.

The bruises are now mostly gone, and your skin is left with a few blemishes on the cheek, which you hope will eventually fade and disappear. Although, there’s not much you can do about the slightly scared, crooked nose Gustavo gifted you. You still remember Sam’s sweet gesture even though it happened more than a week ago. You’re not sure why he did it, after all he barely knew you at the time. You don’t ask him either. In fact, you haven’t mentioned it at all and neither as he.

Nonetheless, your ‘midnight talks’ become frequent; a ritual before either of you goes to sleep. Smile on the lips, exchanging medleys back and forth, each of your back against the wall that separates you. You secretly wish that somehow his body heat would travel through the concrete wall so you’d sense that peculiar warmth once again.

Each day Sam tells you something about him, about his life, and compels you to do the same. At this point you know he and Nate spent most of their childhood in an orphanage. That their, quote ‘fuckup of a father’, dropped them there as soon as their mother passed away. You can sense the agony flowing through Sam as he tells you this. The sudden, yet muffled cracks in his sorrowful voice make your heart clench. Howbeit, his tone changes when he mentions his adventures with his little brother. His voice adopts an enthusiastic emphasis as he rambles about the first time he held a stubby, innocent Nate in his arms. Sam tells you how they’d climb up and down the orphanage building just to go grab a milkshake in his old motorcycle. He raves of 15 year-old Nathan stealing Francis Drake’s ring with such pride and contentment in his voice you can’t help but giggle.

Sam loves his brother so tenderly, so compassionately, so much.  
 

* * *

  
The library is a small, humid room with several rows of old wooden bookshelves placed across it. The decrepit wallpaper is falling apart, a considerable amount of it prevailing on the carpet floor rather than on the walls. There are a few tables scattered, where a couple of prisoners are seated. Nate and Rafe however, are on the table the furthest from everything and everyone. Nathan is seating with his feet up, slightly leaning back against the wall, the book vertically holding onto his legs. Rafe on the other hand, seating across the table, has his nose buried in a book, oscillating his eyes between it and a scribbled, slightly scrunched sheet of paper located to his side. You’re between two tall and long bookshelves trying to choose something to read; next to you, Sam has his back on the wall, arms crossed with an open book on his hand. Your eyes examine the shelves, focusing your attention in each and every book. A couple of shelves themed of art and/or history, catch your attention. You get closer and reach, running your index finger along the aged, fraying book spines until you spot a dark burgundy colored one, which you pull out.

Holding it with both hands you read quietly, “ _The Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire_ , by Edward Gibbon.” engraved in golden letters. A smirk hints the side of your lips.

You glance to your left to find Sam looking at you, wide smile, cocked eyebrow, “You like that?” He closes his book stuffing it under his arm, reaches for yours and takes it from your hands.

“I was always very fascinated by all the ancient civilizations. Can’t really tell you why.” You shrug as you stare at Sam flicking through the book, his firm hands running over the pages. “Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece and…” you leisurely pull the book from his light grip, and tap it “…Ancient Rome.”

Through the semi-empty shelves behind, to your right, you check the table where Rafe sits, wiggling a pen on his hand, the other resting on his forehead. You glance down at the book on your hand, sigh and move to put it back on the rack, “Maybe I should give Rafe a hand with our little research before I focus my attention on anything else.”

Sam reaches for your wrist and holds it, pulling it back. He glances at Rafe, “I think he’s got that covered.” You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow as you look into his eyes. He holds both his hands up, grinning, before pointing at the book, “You should read it. It’s very interesting, I’m telling you.”

You widen your eyes as a smile forms on your lips, “Oh. So you have read it.”

Sam opens his grinning mouth and glances upwards, “Yes, a really long time ago.” He notices your dazed expression. “My mom owned a copy. I read it when I was like 10.” He chuckles, starting to motion his hands to the sides, “She had these huge shelves in her office packed with books. But after she passed away-” his smile turns somewhat melancholic, looking away from you, “-me and Nathan got none of them. We got nothing, actually.”

Your face has a slight frown upon it and your smile vanished. You hold the book tightly against your chest. A knot grows in your throat but you dare to swiftly glimpse at Sam, whose lips now form a thin line, contrasting with its usual thickness. He starts to walk back to the table and pats your hands holding the book, “It’s a good read.”

Sam had told you about his mother before, but you hadn’t been facing him. It was through an old wall at 2a.m. in the morning, not like this. There’s something in his eyes that tells you more than any amount of words could ever. Something you hadn’t been able to notice until now.  
The only thing Sam and Nate have from their mother is her scarce, yet longing memory.

A childhood marked by the need to _not_ be a child. No family to gather with. No father to look up to.

You lay the book in the rack closest to you, crossing your arms. Your body flinches slightly as a shiver trills down your spine. An almost pleading tone escapes your throat, “Sam, wait.” He stops and looks back at you with his hazel, wistful eyes.

 “You told me, how much this means to you.” His eyebrows plunge into a frown. “How you first read about Henry Avery’s treasure in-” You pause, gazing down, “-one of your mother’s journals.” A scoff emerges from within you, “I feel like we don’t deserve it, me and Rafe. I came because this treasure would settle our lives.. Nothing more.” Lowering your tone, you hiss, “Not that Rafe’s isn’t settled already. It was just me and him at first, but when you guys walked into the picture I—. I just feel like we’re taking this away from you and Nate...” Your head shakes, as you take a deep breath and glare at him, “I feel like _I’m_ taking this from _you_ , Sam…”

“Hey…” Sam whispers as he shortens the distance between the both of you. He reaches for your shoulder and places his hand upon it. He lets the book slide from under his arm and puts it on the rack.

“No.” Your ears barely take notice of his undertone. You feel his thumb stroking your collar bone. In a calm, slow voice, you say, “Maybe, Rafe and I should go back. Leave you and Nate to it. Right now, we’re just two more people you’ll have to split this treasure with.”

Sam holds your shoulders tightly, his gaze deepens into yours, “Y/N, this treasure is as much mine as it is yours. Yes, finding it would hold a deep meaning to me, but I’m still the thief here. We all are. Perhaps the only one who can be considered the owner is Henry Avery and well, he stole all of it too.” As your face eases its tense muscles, Sam sighs.

“Are you sure…?” You ask, finding your behavior to be somehow childish. However, you did feel a sense of guilt. Sam and Nate deserved this treasure in a way. All that they’d been through… it should bring some sort of reward back. It has to. Even if it is only closure.

A gentle grin is now plastered across his face, “I am very sure. Besides-” His voice now whispering, “-as much as I’d like to proceed without hotshot over there,” Sam adds, as he nods in Rafe’s way, “He’s the one financing this _whole_ thing. So, no Rafe, no wage.” Your eyes widen, but squint the second you hear Sam’s awful pun. “Get it? Rafe, wage? It rhymes, right?” He questions. Your lips are pouting, eyebrows frowning as your face turns red, trying not to laugh. You break your self-imposed silence, “That was terrible.” Sam cackles loudly and a small giggle escapes your mouth.

You both gaze at each other for a few seconds. Before you know it, Sam has pulled you into a hug. You rest your head on his chest, while the scent of smoke and cigarettes crawls its way into your lungs. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, hands caressing his back. He has his chin down on your head while his hand holds it, his breathing lightly waving your hair. His other arm rests fondly in your upper back. You both fit like puzzle pieces, your body intertwining with his. Sam’s heartbeat shapes into a lullaby as you hear it. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment while it lasts. Until you both have left the prison there’s not much else you can do. If any of the prisoners, any of the guards were to catch you two together, in _any_ way, it would be a fucking disaster. Hmph. You wonder what would bring the worst reaction from the ignorant men that surround you in this dump, thinking you’re a gay man or, a straight woman standing amongst them. Anyway, you don’t intend to find out.

Even though his arms around you make you feel safe as never before, you slowly pull away from Sam’s grip. His hands shift to your face, holding your cheeks. You move yours to his wrists, perceiving his surprisingly steady heartbeat.  He doesn’t seem to want, or be able to let you go; to lift his skin off yours, afraid you’ll somehow fade away.

You feel your heart beating heavily. It almost stops though, when you see a shadow on the worn out floor, approaching the end of the bookshelf. In the next moment, Sam has his lips on yours and your eyes close involuntarily. His silk-like lips enveloping yours send a tingling feel down your back, pitching you to your tip-toes in an attempt to go against it. However, it only makes it easier for your arms to surround his neck, swiftly pulling him closer to you. Sam’s hands have now found their way past both your shirts. Goosebumps spread over your body as his cool hand touches your back, the other trilling up and down the side of your torso. Sam isn’t stopping and you feel like you’re losing control, until you hear the scraping sound of feet on the carpet floor. Fuck. That shadow. You forgot about it completely when Sam’s lips merged with yours. He doesn’t seem to have noticed as he keeps kissing you, moving down to your neck. You on the other hand, rapidly grab and cease his moving hands. Sam has his head in your neck, gazing upwards at you somewhat confused, as you slowly move to the side. You wince when your eyes move past Sam’s shoulder, but only to find Nate staring amused at the both of you, his mouth shaping an ‘o’.

“Oh, fuck…” You sigh in relief, your cheeks burning, as you release Sam’s hands. In your head, a thousand scenarios had gone by and none of them ended well.

Sam turns back and blinks his eyes a couple times before simply chuckling, sending a wave his brother's way.

Embarrassed, you walk by Nathan, heading for the table where Rafe is sitting. He opens his grinning mouth to clearly tease you, but you cut him off, “Don’t.” He hums.

Rafe’s still focused on whatever book he’s going through, not even glancing up as you sit down in front of him. You bring your legs up, feet on the small space you have left in the chair you’re sitting in. “Rafe-“ He raises his index finger, silencing you, then again, not conceding you the briefest of looks. Your eyes roll and land on where you left Sam and Nate. Laughs and an incomprehensive conversation flow. You focus, trying to make up their words but before you can perceive anything they turn the corner. You quickly gaze away, faking the most uninterested expression you can.

Nate seats and picks his book up, glimpsing at you with that smug grin of his that reminds you of his brother. You place your chin on top of your knees, hugging them. He’s not going to forget this is he?

 “ _The Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire”_ slides across the table, “You forgot this.” Sam says, the corner of his mouth shifting up.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys! First of all, thank you for the kudos, I'm glad you're enjoying this! Secondly, sorry about the delay on this one, but besides having a creative block mid-writing this, school has just resumed, and time is starting to slip through my fingers too easily. Can't make any promises, but i'll try to update this once a week, *fingers crossed*.


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